Mad World
by Fancy-Hart
Summary: I wanted to attempt a realistic view of self harm and mental health issues in a serious adult relationship. (Miranda/Andy) (AU) If you have any ideas or advice, regardless of your experience with these issues, please let me know. I want to do his justice. Thank you.
1. Chapter 1

She sighed as the blood finally ceased drumming in her ears and the tension in her body bled away. If she had thought she would be here 5 years ago she – well she wouldn't have thought she would end up here. Here being the bathroom she shared with her ex-boss turned partner, who was currently downstairs waiting for her; as she finished her little act of debauchery.

It had seldom crossed her mind to inform Miranda just what her beloved girlfriend did on the frequent trips to the bathroom, and even more seldom were the questions put towards Andy.

She finished dressing her wounds and replaced the lid on the home made first aid kit. It was a twisted box, layer one to cause the harm, layer two to curb the damage. As she put it back in its subtle hiding place beneath the sink, she couldn't help but catch a glimpse of her reflection in the rusting in of the box. It was weird, she _looked_ the same, but everything else felt different inside. The mash up of emotions spewing in her chest were too large to be contained inside, surely there must be a mark beside the ones she made herself, that would hint to the ache she felt. _Surely_ it was tattooed on her forehead.

She left the bathroom, remembering to flush the toilet as she left, in order for those seldom questions to remain seldom.

She smiled as she saw the other woman, donned in silk two piece pajamas, on the setee waiting for her, the show paused at the start screen

"Ok?" she asked

"Yea" Andy smiled and sat down, leaning to wrap herself around the older woman as she finally relaxed. It was the final step of the ritual, it always ended with Miranda- just as it had all started with her.


	2. Chapter 2

It was hard to be the other woman to Andrea's- what should she call it? _Quirk? Addiction? _ Neither seemed to fit, one too dramatic and the other to mundane. It was hard to describe what it felt like not knowing which of the times Andrea excused herself, the bathroom was being used for intended purposes or for a chance to partake in the sordid past time again. She could always tell afterward. They had scented soap, if Andrea didn't smell of soap she wasn't peeing. And if she wasn't peeing she was bleeding. There are many fear that come with the knowledge that a loved one is self-harming, especially when it's your partner. If she was her mother she could force the young woman to see a counsellor, a psychiatrist, a doctor, a surgeon, anyone who might be able to help. If she was a sister she could plead not wanting to lose someone she spent her whole life growing up next to. If she was a friend she could use their friendship as a bargaining chip and if she lost, well friends are the one kind of relationship that are made and broken and can still survive. Miranda was in the least powerful position, she was in a romantic relationship with the woman who chose to cut rather than talk. And that meant she had the most to lose. Not only if the unthinkable happened, and a slip occurred leading to a knicked artery, or reusing old instruments or wounds being infected. She was very aware that if she spoke too harshly, demanded too much, moved to quickly she could lose her, and she was far too used to having this young girl, she wasn't ready to give her up.


	3. Chapter 3

The programme came to an end and was dutifully switched off. Both women remained as they were. A few minutes of silence  
"Where?"  
Andy moved her head to look the older in her eyes.  
"Where?" she repeated  
"Hip" she looked down at her hands  
"How long between this time and the one before?"  
Andy shrugged, Miranda waited. The silence resumed, until Miranda sighed and placed her hand on top of Andrea's  
"Do you feel better"  
"no"  
"then why-" Miranda cut herself off knowing this train of thought would merely cause arguments and more aggravation for the brunette.  
"May I see?"  
"Mirand-"  
"Please?"  
Andy stood in front of the setee and rolled the pyjama bottoms down past her hips to the top her thigh where the agitated lines contrasted deeply with her pale skin.  
"Did you tend to them properly?"  
"Yes, Savlon – I'm running low"  
"Low? We only bough-"Andy turned her head from the sitting woman  
"I will have Emily pick some up, the girls are camping in two weeks, and she will assume it is for them"  
Andy nodded.  
"Can we go to bed now?"


	4. Chapter 4

They both proceeded with their nightly rituals. Washing, teeth brushing, and in Andy's case, hair plaiting. Miranda finished first, turned off the main lamp, climbed into bed and turned the bedside lamp off, waiting on Andy to finish her hair. Once she had completed the plait, Andy tied it with a bobble, turned off her lamp and fell under the covers.

They both lay in silence and darkness. Regurgitating the day.

Andy subconsciously began to rub at her hip. Miranda reached over and took her hand.

"They won't heal, leave them to scab over"

Andy did not reply, however did as Miranda wished and left the small injuries alone.

"Can you tell me why?"

"No"

"No you can't or no you won't?"

"I can't"

"Can you try?" she asked in a soft voice

Andy was getting anxious, why couldn't the editor leave it alone!?

"Miran-"

"Look I have been walking on egg shells ever since this bomb was dropped on me, and so far I have been forgiving. You didn't tell me I had to find out. I offered counsellors, you refuse to go. I try to remove the utensils, you buy more. I ask to talk, you remain quiet and refuse to say anything. It is getting very old very quickly."

"I'm sorry"

"Don't apologise just talk to me"

"I don't know what to say"

"Anything. When did it start? Why did it start, How do I help? How do we get you to stop?"

"We?"

Miranda moved to the middle of the bed and reached for the slim woman in the dark

"We – you and I, you are not alone, I am here to help, but you need to start talking to me, relying on me. I cannot help if you shut me out, and that hurts more than you know, watching someone you love suffer so obviously, but too stubborn to ask for your help"

"I'm sorry"

"Stop apologising, I am not angry, I just need to make you see"

The two lay huddled together in silence. Just when Miranda had thought the darkness had claimed Andy, the young writer spoke

"It's like a black hole"

Miranda shifted

"Like there's a gaping hole in my stomach and it's so vast and empty that I could be sucked into it, and its full of sadness and despair and outright pain, and all I can do is feel physical pain to take away from the emotional, because I can fix that, I can ease the physical pain, but I don't know how to get rid of this blanket, this ocean of, of, of –"

Andy was unable to think of the word.

"Depression" came the soft whisper

"Yes." Andy suddenly felt a little less heavy.

Then with a voice of sudden timid clarity she whispered a sentence her bed partner would never forget.

"Miranda? I think I am depressed."

The older woman said nothing as she held the crying woman, she whispered nonsense into her ear as she fell into slumber. "First step darling" "You'll be fine" "We'll be fine" "Shhhh" "Well done"

Her last thoughts before Miranda fell asleep were "Finally, now we're getting somewhere" She had been waiting on this, Knowing that Andy would have to break down repeatedly before they found a coping mechanism wing that the silence and bottled up emotions would break eventually. And finally it had arrived. She knew it was a good step in the right direction. She also knew the two of them had a long way to go yet.


	5. Chapter 5

When Miranda awoke Andy had already risen, she felt the side of the bed and found warmth, and the young woman hadn't been up too long. She turned as she heard the toilet flush and the bathroom door open. Andy turned the light off and got into bed. The women remained silent.

"I was just peeing"

"I didn-"

"You didn't have to" explained Andrea, "It's always there on your face, looking at me for a hint of which liquid I discarded this time"

There was no reply to that.

"How are you feeling?"

"I think I needed last night" she moved into her partners arms, Miranda reciprocated the hug. "I have been selfish. I did not consider what I was putting you through, or the girls. They may not know what, but they no something is up, and that uncertainty is not something I want to taint their home life with." She steeled herself for the next part. "I wanted to apologise to you, I know you said not to last night, but I need to. I am sorry for the awful thoughts that have gone through your head. I have no idea how I would manage had the roles been reversed. I know I could never make it up to you, just know that I love you and I am ashamed of what I have put you through, please forgive me"

The editor held the woman closer. And trailed few kisses on her cheek and bare neck, then simply lay with her chin resting on the brunette's head

"You can"

"huh?"

"You can make it up to me, itll be hard but you can do it"

"Wha-?"

"Allow me to help you stop."

"Miranda I don't thi-"

"Oh no, you don't that's the problem. You want to make it up to me and the girls, well here is your chance." She calmed herself before speaking again. "Andrea, I am not saying go cold turkey, I am telling you I will be there for you, every step of the way and even after. If you will not do it for yourself, then for me, the girls."

"That's a lot to ask Miranda"

"You have asked a lot of me these past months, I believe this is only fair"

Guilt flickered across the young writer's face "I'm sorry"

"Don't tell me, show me"

Again there was silence, for half an hour the two pyjama clad women lay beneath the covers and let the world pass by. Miranda slowly drawing lazy circles on Andy's arm.

"OK"

"Ok?" Mianda looked down into her lover's eyes

"If you will help me, then I'll do it"  
"Oh Andy –"

"But you need to be patient, and I will need your help"

"Of course! Anything you need."

"Ok I will – I will try"

"Darling" She kissed the brunette "thank you, my brave darling." She got out of the bed and walked around to the stationary woman's side, passing she placed a quick kiss on her head "I'll go get the pamphlets" and proceeded downstairs.


	6. Chapter 6

When she returned to the bedroom again, Miranda had a silver tray with two mugs of steaming coffee and a pile of multi coloured, various sized pamphlets. Andy felt bile rise in her throat.

"Relax, I'm here, we'll go through it together"

Andy weakly smiled, she sat up and arranged the cushion in a comfortable fashion against the headboard as Miranda got into the other side of the bed and passed her a mug of the hot liquid.

"Right how do you want to do this? We can lay them on the bed and look through them, or I can read the highlights and you can say yay or nay" at this Andy opened her mouth "But nay must have an acceptable reason" The young girl bowed her head and nodded.

Miranda reached between them and placed her hand on top of the smoother one, she give it a squeeze.

"I'll put them on the bed and we can go from there"

She laid out the rainbow of papers. Once the pamphlets were all laid out and visible, Miranda looked at her young lover and smiled encouragingly, "go ahead"

Andy picked up one closer to her.

"Samaritans. They have a 24 hour call line?"

"Means you can call them anytime, you don't need to wait and if for some reason you can't contact me – they'll be there"

Andy looked panicked

"My phone will always be on ring 24/7 and if it's off, it's because I'm here in our house with you. I will not leave you alone to do this. But if there is a time when you can't talk to me because of any reason, they will be there. For those moments when it's too hard to speak to me, a calm voice will be on the phone"

This seemed to soothe Andy. "Ok, put it in the keep pile. Now, pick another one"

The next one Andy picked up was for CAMHS. "This is just children and adolescents Miranda"

"Oh yes, I know, I wanted to show you the inside of the leaflet, it has ideas on how to distract you when you feel the urge, and has a little calendar you can fill out of all the days you make it without you know" the editor trailed off and looked at more of the leaflets on the bed. Andy looked at her partner for a few minutes.

"Say it"

"hmm?" Miranda looked up from the pamphlets she had been fiddling with

"Say it"

"Say what"

"Say self-harm, say my wife self-harms"

"Why? I know you do and you know you do"

"Do what?"

"Andrea..."

"No, if you can't say it how do you propose to be there to help me?"

Miranda sighed, the word is so harsh, can't they find a euphemism for it? Something a bit less –"

"Truthful?" cut in Andy. "It is called what it is, no if ands but or ribbons. It would be too easy to hide behind"

"When did you become the strong one?" chuckled Miranda

"If I were strong we would not be doing this right now"

"You are not weak, this does not make you weak, I didn't mean to imply that. Self-harm is because you cannot express pain – not because you are too weak to handle it."

Andy smiled, "You said it"

"Yes well, let's continue"

Andy picked up a purpled covered pamphlet "Rowan Sexual assault Referral Centre, Miranda what-"

"Oh I forgot I had those, sorry"

"What do you need those for?" The brunette's eyes widened "Oh no, please tell-"

"Hush now, darling I picked them up simply because I did not know then what we needed to deal with. This is a common reaction to addiction, abuse or mental health issues. I would never lift a hand to you, and I have never seen you intoxicated, but there are many years in your life I was not by your side."

To the older woman's relief Andy scanned the pile and removed the Nexus Sexual Abuse; CAT Addictions team AA anonymous team and Victims of domestic violence pamphlets and gave them to her, "I don't need these".


	7. Chapter 7

The women continued shuffling through the various leaflets.

"Miranda?"

"Hmm?" she looked up from her current pamphlet – Life Line and hummed around the coffee cup she had to her lips as she sipped the addictive liquid.

"How do you know so much about – this?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Well, it's just not the kind of thing you expect a lot of people to know, and you seem to know a lot"

"Least of all a fashion editor?

"Well-"

"What if it was me? What if you were to find out that I was causing myself deliberate harm? You'd learn all you could in order to help me overcome that wouldn't you?"

An hour later and all the decisions had been made. Andy would use CareCall, who would be available to meet her wherever was needed, and at the insistence of her wife, she kept the pocketsize lifeline card in her purse so that no matter where or when there was always someone to talk to.

"Right, now that that's done" She leant over to the slim woman and kissed her "I am headed for a shower" She entered the bathroom, turned on the light and began to disrobe. She was startled to hear the door close behind her.

"Andy?"

The ex-assistant had put a stop to Miranda seeing her body, even going as far as to change in the bathroom, it was one of the signs that had made Miranda aware that something was up.

"Can I join you?"

"Of course darling, if you're sure"

"I figure, if we follow that CAHMS card, I have to show you them anyway. And it has been so long since we –"

"You don't have to justify being close to me" as the elder woman kidded her and slowly began to undress her, maintaining eye contact, she then turned, took her hand and led her into the shower where they washed in comfortable silence. Miranda turned in order for Andy to wash her hair,

"You can look"

Miranda turned back again.

"I mean if they're too horrible to look at I can keep them covered."

Miranda sighed. "I am not avoiding looking at them because they offend me, I am avoiding staring at them. These marks aren't you, they are a part of you and I do not wish to make you uncomfortable. Let's get out and we can talk"

Silence resumed as they washed themselves and their hair and stepped out. Once they were dried and hair towel wrapped, they both sat on the end of the bed wrapped in their bath robes.

"I would like to see if you are still comfortable enough to show me. You don't have to."

"I'd like to be able to make love with he lights on again. And walk around the house in short sleeves and get changed in my own bedroom and not _hide_ anymore."

"Well this is something we need to discuss. What happens in our bedroom is between you and I no one else. However we do need to discuss whether we will tell the girls or not. This is a big thing and I do not know if telling them is right."

"So you want me to remain hidden from the girls, lie to them?

"I didn't say that!"

"No you just don't want me to be honest with them"

"Well it didn't stop you before."

Andy flinched like she had been slapped. "That was so uncalled for."

"Is it though? How long was this going on before I found out? How much longer would it have continued if I hadn't walked in on you in the shower that morning? How long?! Until one of the girls walked in on you half dead because you nicked an artery, or you forget to pull your sleeve down one day?"

"This is why I didn't tell you – I knew you wouldn't understand!"

"Look if you'd wanted attention love, could you not have developed an eating disorder – I would have saved on food bills"

Andy blinked. Miranda looked shocked at the words that had come frm her agape mouth. "Andrea, oh honey I'm sorry, I did-"

"Don't touch me, don't."

"Please, I am sorry"

"This was not for attention. I do not need attention. Surely one of you leaflets or books told you that?" She sighed and began to walk towards the bedroom door. "It started when you and I were going through that rough patch and we didn't know if we would make it. It helped me to focus. It made breathing easier. I would have told you eventually, I think."


	8. Chapter 8

Miranda stared at the closed bedroom door. She's done it now. She had read the pamphlets, the websites, the books; she knew this was not an attention thing, and she knew belittling the whole thing was not the way to help. She sighs as she began to get ready for the day.

Down stairs Andrea was waiting for her coffee. She needed the release, the addicting endorphins that would swallow her whole as she endured the pain she created for herself. She hadn't her normal utensils, she had only ever done it with slicing her skin. She checked the cutlery drawer – only butter knives. Suddenly the whistling of the kettle drew her attention. It was crazy but maybe – Agh! The pain gave way to an adrenaline rush, the feeling of euphoria that she normally achieved with the spilling of precious red liquid, she did again, this time unable to supress the high pitched squeal. The Pain! Just when she thought she would pass out she removed her arm from the steam. The stress from a few minutes ago had elevated, she could think clearly now that the clouds were gone, now it was ok, everything was fine. She heard footsteps on the stairs.

"Andrea?" called Miranda as she came down from dressing, "I wanted to apologise to you, I know I shouldn't have lost my temper I – What are you doing?"

The brunette whipped round "Nothing?"

"Your arm! Let me see"

"No"

"Andrea don't be childish, show me"

"Why?" asked the young woman as she cradled her arm to her chest

"Because I want to help"

"No you want me to have an eating disorder"

The white haired woman looked ashamed "I did not mean that and you knw it, I should not have lost my temper, and I am sorry, let me help you, please?" She gave a small smile as the taller woman gave her arm in submission, she gasped "Oh Andrea"

"Please don't."

"Ok, I won't I promise. Put it under the cold water"

Afterwards when the burn was wrapped and hd cream placed on it, the two were sitting on the setee in the living room when Miranda piped up.

"Why did you change *cough* instruments?"

"Didn't have my stuff"

"Oh"

The silence continued

"Will you continue this way?"

"I doubt it"

"Ok"

"Have you thought about this way before?"

"Miranda – what is it you're really trying to ask?"  
"I don't know what you mean – "

"Bleeding hell, quit beating around the bush and tell me!"

"The literature says a change in *clears throat* self-harm style can mean a change in mind set and that it can prelude to worse injuries."

"That is not so in this case"

"How do you know? The literature says –"

"I know Miranda, because I know me"

"That may be, but the literature says-"

"Miranda give up about the literature please. Just accept you will not understand the reason why, or how it makes me both calmer and gives me adrenaline at the same time, how it both pains and relieves my pain, how I hate it and love it and how it is so addicting, you cannot. Stop using free fliers to try and get into my head."

"You are my _wife_. I do not need fliers to get into your head, I used to be able to do that anyway. You shut me out, and won't let me in anymore. And you snipe at me for trying to fight my way back in?

Andrea put her head in her hands and mumbled something intelligent

"You don't want to be in here

"Why not?"

Miranda moved closer to her younger wife

"I don't want to be in here and it's _my_ head. I don't like it, or understand it. It's a messy, a scary confusing mess that makes no sense and I feel like I am not in control over my own mind. I feel like one day my mind will decide to kill my body and I will not have the strength to say no, even though I don't want to, I may be forced to, and that terrifies me beyond words. I don't know how to make it stop."


	9. Chapter 9

Well there wasn't much the white haired woman could say to that. As cliché as it was, her wife was standing in front of her and yet she was powerless to save the brunette. So she did what she felt she could do, nothing.

"Perhaps we should just leave it, is there any point? Let's just-"

"What? Are you – Are we?"

"I mean this conversation, let's leave the conversation, before it becomes _that_"

"Andrea Sachs that is far from-"

"Oh my maiden name, I'm in trouble now!" The younger of the two smirked and noticed a distinct lack of responding humour, she looked up at her wife

"That is emotional blackmail and I shall not stand for it."

"Huh?"  
"You will not threaten to dissolve our marriage just so you have an out when dealing with the bad stuff"

"_Stuff?! _DO my ears deceive me?"

"Andrea" growled Miranda. "Humour will not dissuade me from talking through this with you"

The brunette looked guilty. "Why don't you talk to me about it, hmm? Tell me why you do it?" A look was given "perhaps not"

"It's not that I won't Miranda, it's just that I can't, I don't really know myself"

"Well can you tell me when it started?"

"I already told you"

"Yes but I want to know what makes such a brilliant mind as yours do something so, so –"

"Crazy?"

"Well" after a slight pause the white haired woman looked into her wife's eyes, "yes"

"Ok, but I need you to stay quiet, to let me finish and don't ask questions, can you do that for me?"

"Anything" She moved closer to her young wife

"And Miranda?"

"Darling?" She reached for the brunette's hand

"Please don't cry?"

"I –"

"Miranda if you cry it will hurt me more and I won't be able to finish I need you to be the strong one for this, then, afterwards you can break down, but I need to finish it and it might not seem particularly emotional or hard to you, but this is something that is hard for me, something you will I hope never understand, just hold my hand and let me lean on you for a few minutes. Ok?"

The editor swallowed, she squeezed the hand in her own "OK"

"Well it was back when the kids were in college after Christmas, and we were constantly fighting, and then that whole thing with that Mr Potts happened, with his wife and…."


	10. Chapter 10

They had been married just over a year. It wasn't' a fairy-tale, or even a rom-com type romance, but it was real and they loved each other. Hence why they got married. They had their ups and downs just like any other couple however there was the additional bonus of being thrust in the public spotlight just as their teenage daughters had adolescence cupping at their bosoms and playing finger paints on their faces. Emotions were high, and not just for those in puberty. For the past few weeks the two women had barely seen each other, save a quick hello and goodbye. There was a new issue due for Miranda, and for Andrea, she was writing in a city that never sleeps, why would one believe those reporting on it would? But tonight they had a gala, tonight they would wine and dine with the elite of m

Manhattan and they would come home and go to bed together

Andrea had just arrived home, she was late and Miranda was in a strop. She was placing the finishing touches on her makeup when he heard the door close signalling her wife's entrance.

"Nice of you to join us _darling"_ she called down

"Sorry I'm late!"

Andrea did not hear the elder woman's muttering until she was further up the flight of stairs.

"Useless, I ask one thing and she can't even do that right, what happened, she get lost between here and the office?"

"You better be talking about your assistant _loveI"_ the brunette growled, so she was late, but she had arrived and there was still plenty of time!

Miranda turned from the mirror "Actually, Emily made it on time, she knows her job"

Andrea's eyes squinted in anger. "Her job?! Well bully for her – I am so glad I am not your employee, just your wife!" she threw her hands in the air and stormed off to the wardrobe that held the outfit specifically chosen for this occasion

"As am I" drawled Miranda, "no more having to put up with sub-average work and less than desirable time keeping"

Andrea remerged with her dress now on, in the process of zipping it up. "Maybe not but I still have to put up with a narcasistic, evil drama queen"

_"Excuse me?"_ Tee editor used the voice that had brought many assistants to tears, and if Andrea had still been in an employer/employee relationship with the white haired woman, she admitted she'd probably have succumbed to the panic, but no longer, she was this woman's wife that made her an equal, or at least in theory,.

"You heard me!" Andrea again proceeded in to the room, this time to find her shoes, Miranda followed behind her.

"Well if you have such a problem, maybe you should fix it"

"Andrea twirled to face the white haired woman. "If you want a divorce sweetheart, just ask. You've never had trouble doing that before"

Miranda's jaw fell open at the words. Andrea knew how she had suffered each time a marriage had failed. She closed her mouth in time to watch Andrea walk past her and into the bathroom.

"I need to do my make up, I will see you in the car." And for the first time in over twelve months, she locked the bathroom door behind her, in a nonverbal threat for the editor to _stay out. _

Miranda was already in the car and waiting when Andrea finally made it downstairs, dressed and presentable. Roy drove them to the gala in silence.

They slipped on the façade just in time to enter into the large ballroom, no one here need no that her wife had pretty much asked for a divorce. Andrea wanted to scream, instead she shook hands with the obnoxious, exchanged conversations with the rude and danced with the sleazy. "What it mean to be the 4th MR Preiestly" she thought.

"Now who is this beautiful creature?"  
Andrea turned and came face to face with her wife's doppelganger. A few pounds heavier, slightly taller, eyes not as expressive and a little younger, but it caused her to take a double take.

"Hi" she gave the woman an air kiss

"Sweetheart, please tell me you bat for the right team?"

"haha, if you are asking me about my sexuality madam, I am very much interested in women"

Andrea tried to hold back her cringe and rolling eyes, if the woman wasn't so damn important to Miranda, she'd have exercised her right to drown this woman in her wine.

The older woman's eyebrow raised, and she gave Andrea the one over again

"Come, I wish to talk to you" Andrea smiled half heartedly and let herself be led to a small, dimly lit table in the corner of the room.

"I suppose I should introduce myself" a hand was thrust into the brunette's. "I'm Katherine, Katherine Potts"


	11. Chapter 11

Miranda was not unaware of her wife being led to the back of the room by Mrs "Kate" Potts, she was also not unaware of this woman's explicit sexual history. She and her husband were each other's beards, why they remained married was unknown – unlike the fact each had slept with over half of Manhattans up and comers.

She did not like her wife being alone with this woman. She shifted her weight slightly so she could peer over the shoulder of the politician muttering on about something or other, and watch the interaction between the two women.

Her hands clenched as she watched that floozy run her fingers along her wife's cheek. She realised in the brief lull of the droning voice that a question had been asked of her, she looked at the bore in front of her. She would not admit that she had been caught unaware, instead she smiled, nodded slightly and excused herself and stepped around the dreary man. In doing so, her line of view towards her wife was no longer interrupted nor the view of that long finger with gaudy nail polish at the tip, twirling in a curly design on the inside of her wife's wrist. "How dare that cretin touch anything that belonged to her? She watched as Mrs Potts stood up and gestured towards her wife with the intentions of asking her to dance. She smirked to herself, this woman was about to be turned down. Andrea never danced at these things, Miranda asked every time, and every time she was given a bashful shake of the head. They danced together; very often they would hold each other and sway in the privacy of their bedroom while soft candlelight and equally less than harsh music accompanied them. However the only time anyone other than themselves had been privy to this sight was on their wedding day. Miranda looked upon this as something only they shared. As selfish as it was, she had to share Andreas love with the twins, her days with the young woman's work, and her beauty with the world. Her dancing however? That was all Miranda's.

Which is why the pain took her breath away as Andrea stood and followed this woman to the dance floor.


	12. Chapter 12

Andrea couldn't breathe, her hands were sweating and her heart was pounding in her chest. Not in a good way either. She was not aroused, she was grossed out and just plain uncomfortable. It _would_ be her luck that one of the most influential people in New York had taken an unrequited liking to her. This woman could control enough of Manhattan to bring Runway to a stop- Miranda would probably let the woman bed her if it meant she could keep her job.

Her stomach dropped when she saw her wife's face.

She hadn't wanted to dance, she hadn't wanted to sit and she had not wanted to have a drink with this woman but damn it, how could she know? Caught between the divil and the deep blue sea she was.

She tried not to squirm away as the intoxicated woman placed Andreas hand on her hip, and then placed hers on the brunets shoulder. "You having fun dear?"

"Yes Mrs Potts"

"Please, Andrea, Kate"

"Only if you call me Andy" she forced a smile.

She heard a cough and turned to see her wife's eyes. "Andrea, I would like to leave now"

"Of course Miranda" she smiled, her wife had come to her rescue, she made to leave, but was pulled back

"Surely you can find your way home?" Miranda turned sharply

"Yes she can, she finds it with me in our car that goes to our home with _our _children sleeping in it"

Mrs Potts held tighter to her wrist

"She has children with you, she is not your child, I will insure she gets home"

"You will do no such thing-"

"Excuse me!" interrupted Andrea as she finally broke free of the woman's grasp, she rubbed her bruising wrist, and noticed how her wife's eyes flickered to it, then to Mrs Potts – she needed to think fast.

"Mrs – Kate, you have been very gracious, but I promised the children I would see them once I returned, and I have an early morning, I must go"

"Hmm" The woman in question continued to stare at Miranda "I cannot tell you how disappointed I am deary, nevertheless, I shall see you again" She kissed Andreas wrist, and smirked at the growl that was heard from Miranda. She eyed the white haired woman up and down, and with a swish of her dress left them standing there. Miranda looked her wife in the eye, cleared her throat and turned to leave.

They were in the car before either spoke again

"Thank you for rescuing me" smiled Andrea, she turned back to her window.

"It did not look like you wanted rescued at all, I was afraid I was….interrupting something"

Andrea turned from the window, mouth agape to stare at her wife. "w-what?" The editor said nothing, but turned to watch the unidentifiable shadowed shapes they passed.

"Miranda you can't really believe-"

"I don't _believe_ anything, I saw what I saw, there's nothing to it"

"Yes there is, yes there is, so much more"

"Oh?" She turned to look at her younger wife "_More_?" Andrea knew what she was hinting at

"Miranda, stop, you know what I mean"

The car came to a stop, and Miranda exited, as she turned to close the door she leant in to her wife, "What I know Andrea, is that you are not sleeping with me tonight" with that the door closed and she was gone, leaving Andrea to wonder whether this was the end of the beginning – or the beginning of the end.


	13. Chapter 13

Miranda looked at the young brunette. She recalled that time with the greatest of ease and pain. She was so sure the marriage was going to end she had begun to mentally divide the girls' holidays between herself, their father and Andrea.

She could not only sympathise but empathise with the woman in front of her, but she could not see how this led to the scars that now adorned the woman's legs.

Andrea saw Miranda's confusion. "I knew you wouldn't get it"

"I suppose I never will"

"I am glad"

"oh?"

"I would never want you to go through this"

"I would if it meant you didn't have to" The brunette gave a small smile and dropped her head to her hands again. Silence roamed the room.

"Darling?"

"Hmmm?" she brought her head from her hands and looked at the white haired woman.

"I understand that was stressful, but I cannot see how you went from that to – " she broke off not knowing how to finish her question.

Andrea sighed, and rubbed the back of her neck. "That night when we came back and I was in the guest room, I could' sleep. I tried everything, warm milk, shot of whiskey, shower, book anything really. But I couldn't get my mind to switch off. I knew we'd been fighting far more than average couples, and now this, I, I was so sure it was over, and I couldn't handle it. I wanted to run to you and I couldn't I was so panicked I didn't realise I had smashed my water glass in my hand and the pain hit me. I remember looking down and it was amazing" The younger woman looked at her right hand, and slowly traced the scar with her left. It was so intoxicating, my senses were heightened, I stopped thinking about the pain, and Miranda it was sooo pretty" she smiled dreamily. "The contrast of the vicious vital red, along the white skin, you should have seen it Mir, it was simply breath-taking"

She was making Miranda nervous.

"Andrea" the brunette continued to stare at her hand, lost in a dream state "so pretty" she mumbled

"Andrea!" she swiped he hands apart, the younger woman jumped out of her state and looked at her wife.

"Sorry"

She cleared her throat and looked away. Silence again reigned. Miranda was battling with something, Andrea could see it in her eyes. She looked at her wife and waited. Miranda steeled herself before taking Andrea's hands in her own, and looking in her eyes. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly before speaking.

"Do it to me"

"What?" Andrea looked at her quizzically"

"Cut me."


	14. Chapter 14

"I cannot believe you just said that…w-w- is this your idea of some sick joke?"

The brunette stood up and began pacing the room

"Andr-"

"I mean seriously, what the hell?! You think this is some sort of fashion statement!?"

The younger woman's voice was shrill, she continued to pace.

"Andrea will you calm down and let me explain!"

Andrea stopped where she was and turned to face her wife, arms folded against her bosom, she said nothing. Miranda took a shaky breath, stood up and made her way to the other woman.

"I simply want to understand"

Andrea moved as if to speak, the editor put her hand up to stop her "Let me finish please" a nod was the only indication she had been heard. "When I see you…hurting, it makes me hurt. I feel as though you have taken that instrument and pushed it right into my heart. I would be pained any time you or the girls were harmed, but that you do it to yourself- brings so much agony to my chest I wonder how I breathe sometimes. Perhaps it's selfish, but I want you to do to me, what you do to yourself. If you love me half as much as I think you do, you'll understand what this is like for me and maybe then….maybe-"

"I'll stop?" Andrea turned her back on the white haired woman. "You sick bitch" Miranda looked up at this, she was confused. Andrea continued "You talk about me using emotional blackmail? What the fuck? You're right it is selfish, and totally unfair of you to ask. Tell me Miranda – would you quit runway for me?"

"That is not even remotely the same!"

"No? Runway means we are less intimate, you can never go to long without runway, Runway gives you a reason to get up in the morning, Runway's there for you when I am not, or when you choose not to let me be. Runway causes you to lose sleep, to not have time to eat, it has cost you relationships – face it sweet cheeks, Runway is your form of self-harm"

"What a load of codswollop! And even if that were true, I will not die if I do fashion too much, or too deep."

Andrea growled in frustration. "I am going for a walk, I can't be here right now."

"We aren't finished."

"I am"


	15. Chapter 15

Miranda had decided she too would get out of the house, she called Roy and made her way to the old Bistro in town, coffee and a scone that would do quite nicely. It calmed her down and gave her a chance to plan out her next conversation, she and Andrea were getting to heated when it came to talking, she needed to be rational and clear. With a renewed sense of purpose, Miranda left the bistro she had been in for two hours, and got the car home. She closed the front door behind her.

"Andrea?"

She removed her gloves.

"Andrea? Darling?"

She removed her scarf.

"Andrea?"

She heard a muffled "shit"

she kicked off her shoes, neglected to remove her coat, and walked up the stairs.

"Andrea?"

The floor creaked under her foot, and she saw the bar of light across the bottom of the door disappear, indicating the light being turned off. She pushed open the bathroom door.

"Miranda go away"

She couldn't see a thing she shuffled forward.

"Andrea?"

"Miranda I will be out in a minute"

She shuffled forward, searching for a faint outline, hands out in front, she was feeling for a body. She heard Andrea shift slightly.

"Andrea, I wanted to say I am sorry"

She continued to move, her hands out in front of her, she found her wife and placed her hands on the woman's shoulders, they were low enough she realised the woman was sitting on the floor. She let her hands travel down the woman's arms, Andrea moved her arms away. Miranda was determined not to give up without a fight, she reached out and grabbed her wife's hands, and her fingers slid against something warm and wet. Andrea winced. "Andrea" Miranda sounded weak "Andrea tell me that isn't –" She stood up and stepped backwards, looking in horror at the place she imagined her love to be sitting, she continue to step backwards before turning and racing to the light switch. She turned on the light. Andrea would say later that it was the only time her wife's hair did not seem its brilliant white, but seemed grey with the comparison of the extreme white Miranda's skin had gone. The female editor stared in horror at her hands now covered in her wife's blood.

"Shit" she mumbled.

Then Miranda collapsed.


	16. Chapter 16

The night was fitful for Miranda, it wasn't exactly an everyday occurrence to watch your hands turn red with your wife's blood.

She turned back to look at said sleeping woman. She groaned in frustration as the minute feeling of tiredness slid through her grasping fingers and fell with a clinging loud enough to resonate in her darkest dreams, had she been having any that is. She sighed once more and decided to call it a day. Sleep had completely eluded her, all she was doing was getting more frustrated and risking the sleep of Andrea beside her. She tried to be mad at the young woman, it was her fault Miranda couldn't sleep after all, but the only thing she could muster up was terror. There was enough blood to cover her hands and still leave spots on the floor - that was a lot. She recalled the "conversation" the two had had earlier that day (was this all just one day?!) she heard her young wife's wistful voice as she described the beautiful contrast, she was right. It was a contrast, but it had definite lack of beauty for Miranda- she doubt she could ever see the colour red and not have this personal "anecdote" brought to the forefront of her mind. She again watched her sleeping wife, each rise of her chest gave birth to relief in Miranda's, just as each pause between breaths delivered century long milliseconds of torture in which the nightmare of losing her wife replayed in her already jumbled head.

She donned her silken robe and proceeded downstairs, every step pushing her further and further into the harsh world of consciousness t a hope of sleeping tonight. She waited whilst the kettle was boiling and brought her mind back to Andrea standing in the kitchen hours before. Miranda traced her arm up and down and stared at the grey/white smoke like substance that emitted from the kettle. Why would someone deliberately cause themselves harm? Attention? No, the brunette went out of her way to avoid any kind. Death wish? Although it was obvious the brunette was suffering, she didn't seem to want to kill herself however it was none too obvious given the latest incident accidental death could occur during it. There simply wasn't enough information on the subject she thought, then again reading information on self-harm from someone who has never experienced it was like Miranda asking a male doctor what it was like to give birth. She sighed and made to leave the kitchen before opening her laptop and clicking the link to the popular search engine.

Spouses who self-harm

Search

Nothing came up.

Adults who harm themselves

Search

Nothing

Self-harmers.

989,000 links in .31 seconds.

She couldn't look at the images.

Ten minutes later and Miranda was none the wiser.

Self harm wasn't attention seeking, but could be a cry for attention. It was either because the harmer was feeling too much and wanted to numb the pain, or was in too much pain and wanted to numb it. Some people wanted the blood, some people wanted the scar. Some people liked to see their cuts, some people didn't. Some people liked to talk about it, some people didn't.

There just weren't any straight forward answers.

With a sigh she closed the laptop and made her way to the study. May as well do work seeing as she was up anyway.

As she placed her mug on the desk and pulled the drawer out, her drink spilled on to the floor and top of her silk slippers, sighing she reached for the tissue that was always in her pocket, she leaned down to wipe her slipper before her eye caught sight of the nauseating red turn brown stain on her tissue. She stared at it, willing it and the memories it brought to disappear, the more she fought the more they resisted. She lost the battle.

Miranda sat in her chair, head in her hands and wept.


	17. Chapter 17

A/N: I have been researching, hence the lateness in the updates, please accept my apologies, it is hard to write something you have little knowledge of. I was given a fictional title to read, and have done so, some of you who are familiar with the title will notice that the last three paragraphs are based on this book. Guess the correct book and I would love to use your idea in a chapter. All in good fun. Hope this finds you all well. And please, if you or anyone you know is going through what Andrea and/or Miranda are, there are lots of ways to get help or simply talk.

The next few days were somewhat…tense. Neither woman wanted to shatter the silence that would undoubtedly cause some form of angst between them. Instead they opted for polite pleasantries and not looking too closely at each other for fear of what the might see.

Two weeks after weeping at her desk and Miranda was at breaking point. She was going to crush this silence and hopefully not bring her marriage crashing down with it. She continued with boiling the kettle, but turned when she heard her wife cross the threshold to the kitchen, neither spoke.

Andrea retrieved the mugs from the cupboard, whilst Miranda placed the boiling water into them, Andrea put the coffee in whilst Miranda placed the milk, they walked around each other like dancers in perfect sync, the shared music in their heads.

Andrea reached over the table for her mug, her action causing her sleeve to ride up and the reminders of the past fortnight to blind steel blue eyes. She winced as she waited for the white haired woman's reaction. She sat down when she realised there wasn't to be one. They sat in an awkward silence, Andrea staring into her mug, Miranda, glasses in her left hand which was pressed under her chin, staring unflinchingly into the kitchen wall; whilst her other hand drew dizzying circle patterns on the mug. Andrea knew what this meant, she took a gulp of her brown liquid and steeled herself. There was to be a …debate.

When the coffee was finished each woman placed their mugs in front of them, like knights in a chess piece, they looked rebellious yet so completely incapable of taking on the mammoth task, they could be thrown to the wall and crash in a thousand pieces much like the marriage they might drag down with them – or they could be offered, to a crying woman, their insides hot with hope and love. Either way this was it, the end of the beginning, the beginning of the end – only time, and the state of the crockery would tell.

Miranda cleared her throat, Andrea looked at her, the editor's gaze did not move. Andrea remained looking at her, Miranda wanted this so she could start it.

"I would like you to stop" the quick retort on Andrea's tongue was bitten down, she did not want to risk angering Miranda too quickly. "I would like you to stop harming yourself, and…" Miranda's voice died off, she knew this was a risk, if it paid off it would be bigger than anything she had ever pulled off in the business world. However if it failed, the losses would be bigger than anything she had ever lost in enterprise also. She was not afraid to gamble with stocks and colours and controversy, then again what's a couple billion compared to one's heart. She steeled on, swallowed, looked Andrea in the eye and continued "..And I believe that if you truly loved me, you would stop."

The anger nearly swallows Andrea whole, this woman is insane! Flashes of previous conversations and arguments speed behind her eyes in a mirage of pain and anguish, she cannot do this again, she will not fight this fight again. She opens her mouth to release the turmoil Miranda has caused, but her wife's hand is up, palm towards her, in a soft silent plea to allow her to finish. Andrea closes her mouth and nods her consent to Miranda.

Miranda closes her eyes briefly, this is the hard bit, now or never, she cannot look back. She sent a quick line to any deity that was listening, "please let this work" Breathe in; she looked at Andrea again. "Because of this, I have decided that if you will be continuing on with this…past time so to speak, I will be asking for a separation."

A tidal wave of emotion threatens to engulf Andrea. She is suddenly back to the argument about Mrs Potts, back to when she thought life as she knew it was about to end.

"I can't" Andrea pushes away from the table "I can't" She is breathing heavily and barely registers that Miranda has stepped to the other side of the table and fallen on her knees in front of her. The broken vase, the slammed doors, the yelling, these are the things she hears. Andrea clasps her hands over her ears in a childlike attempt to mute the sounds of their arguing from the past few weeks. She jumps up, wheels away from Miranda, fumbles in her pocket for her razor she has always kept there. But just as she is preparing to slice Miranda grabs her arm "no not like this"

Andrea whimpers and tries to find release from her wife's arms.

Miranda shakes her "No, not like some trapped animal" Andrea continues to struggle. "You do not have to do this, you do not have to, Andrea stop!" She continues to fight against the slight brunette. "OK, you want to cut? That's fine, but you will do it in front of me, you will show me." She suddenly lets go of Andrea, who seems to only register Miranda has spoken once the editor releases her. She looks at the white haired woman in the eye, and rolls her sleeve up. She presses the razor into her arm, her eyes close and her head falls back as she hisses in exquisite pain, her eyes fall to her arm to watch the thin lines of blood collect on her no longer blemish free arm. She can breathe again. The only sound she can hear is the heartbeat, loud like the ocean drumming in her hear, and the hitching cries of her no doubt disgusted soon to be ex – wife.

Miranda can't believe she did it, she can't believe she made her wife -. The tears are in pools of salt before she realises she has begun to cry.


	18. Chapter 18

What the fuck just happened?

Miranda stands rooted to the spot and watches the brunette collapse to the floor.

What the fuck just happened?

Has she pushed too far? Is it over?

What the fuck just happened?

She looks at Andrea, now lying in the foetal position on the floor, hands covering her eyes.

Fuck. What now?

Miranda turned to leave the kitchen, robotically she walked up the stairs, past the pictures of their life together, of the girls as they had grown, of Patricia from pup to horse, and she made it to the bedroom.

Where was the first aid box kept?

She looked in the drawers, nothing

The wardrobe, nothing

Then the bathroom, the more she searched the more ragged her breath came, the more her heart pounded, where was it? Where the fuck was it?! She screamed and threw the numerous lotions and potions that adorned the sink on to the floor, she opened the medicine cabinet and threw it open almost taking the door of the hinges as she went. "Fuck fuck fuck, where the fuck-"she looked under the sink, she pushed the bleach and medicinal spares out of the way – she suddenly stopped.

Her hands grasped something hard at the back of the cupboard, frowning she pulled it towards her, in doing so she knocked a load of cans off the shelf infront of It and they clanged to the floor with a tinny sound, she puffed out in frustration and gave up, in for a penny in for a pound, she grabbed the object nd pulled it towards her, finally the first aid box as it came into view, she decided against cleaning the mess tight now and proceeded downstairs to her wife with the box in hand.

Upon entering the kitchen she notices Andrea had now moved from the floor to one of the chairs at the kitchen table, she does not move as the older of the two enters. Nor when the editor sits beside her, or even when she takes her hand. She only moves when she notices the box Miranda has in her hand.

"Miranda-" Andy begins to protest

"Now is not that time for you bravado Andrea, let me clean this up then we can –" she seems to lose her steam "Well I don't know what we will do but I am going to clean this up"

"No"

"Andrea I am not in the mood"

"Miranda-"

"For fuck's sake sit down and shut up!"

Andrea leans closer to Miranda and grabs the tin, she makes to leave with it leaving Miranda in shock

"_Andrea,!?" _She stands up and grabs the tin off the brunette "What has gotten into you?"

"Nothing" the brunette takes the tub off her again

Miranda makes a grab for it, and Andrea snatches it back again. Miranda does the only thing she can do, she kisses her wife, hard and long in a way that makes Andrea's toes tingle and leave her breathless, disorientated and distracted.

HA! Miranda has the box. She pushes Andrea's shoulders until the young woman is sitting on the seat, she looks terrified. "Miranda, please…" she whispers Miranda rolls her eyes and opens the box.

It takes her a moment to work out what she is looking at.

She looks up at her wife who is staring intently at the table top, and then back down to the box, which has blades, shards of glass, plasters, pins, nails, staples, matches, lighters and many more things. With a sickening jolt Miranda realises she had found her wife's utensils.


End file.
